Saturday, November 26, 2016

Prophecy

It's
time to introduce you to a new character in the Kevarya
Universe, one completely unrelated to the Royal Family with
which A
Winter's Ballwas
so concerned. Their name is i-Aten Elena, or just Elena, and they
provide the first hint of magic at
play.

Elena weaved their
way through the city streets, lost not in place but in time. The
ground beneath them hummed; the people around them had halos of
blurred air around their figures, as if they were moving back and
forth too quickly for the human mind to process. Everything was
insubstantial, even the sounds and senses Elena would normally use to
ground themself. But that was the future for you. Infinite and
indeterminate and fluid. No one could force it to be one thing or
another—it was everything, all at once. That was why Elena loved it
so.

The seer made no
attempt to rein in their thoughts, instead allowing their gaze to
wander. Back in the present world, they were in a deep trance, which
meant the vision would be a long one. In long visions, every detail
had the potential to be important. Once Elena’s sight adjusted to
this new future world, they began to see figures emerge more clearly
from the blur of uncertainties. A certain weaver would be setting up
her stall at one particular spot, likely as a matter of routine,
while the patterns on the cloths she would sell were still impossible
to make out. The market-square evangelist of the One God would be
having a heated argument with a crowd of Ancestor worshipers, but his
words were inaudible, not that Elena would have cared to listen. Two
laughing children would chase each other through the mass of people.
Elena smiled and followed them.

The children would
not see Elena. Only Elena’s guide would be able to see them. Guides
were the catalysts for long visions, people whose need to send
messages into the past was so strong that they brought the seer’s
mind immediately to them, leaving the body comatose. Elena remembered
when they had first been pulled into a long vision. They had been
told afterward that their mother had wept at seeing her young child
collapse onto the temple floor. But Elena had only felt exhilarated,
freer than they had ever felt before. Rushing toward the unknown,
both in and out of time, of their body, of gender—that was their
natural state. That was their home.

“Elena,” called a
voice from behind.

Elena turned. A few
feet away, someone lingered in the shadows of an alleyway,
half-obscured by the darkness yet still sharper than anything else in
the vision. Elena’s guide was the only certainty to be found in the
future. No matter how disguised he may have been to the rest of the
world, his identity blazed bright in the seer’s mind: Prince Arkady
fe Normonne, the King’s son and heir, the man that the Court still
stubbornly insisted was a woman named Arkadya. “Elena,” he
called again, and Elena approached him with a smile while their mind
churned. It was not often that a guide saw a seer before the seer saw
them.

“You have changed
since I last saw you, Your Highness,” Elena said.

“Do you think it’s
enough?” the Prince asked. “Will people know who I am?”

Elena was used to
incomprehensible conversations, especially in visions. They would
come to understand these words later. They committed his remarks to
memory, then raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you want
people to know who you are?”

The corner of his
mouth twitched. “Always,” he said.

“Then I’m sure
they will.”

Arkady smiled. Elena
recognized it as a society smile, a kind of mask meant to hide one’s
true thoughts. Everyone at Court wore one, and Arkady had had years
of practice. His expression gave nothing away—just like his mother
the King’s.

“You called me
here,” Elena continued carefully. “What is it you wanted?”

Immediately, they
knew that he knew. His mask fell. His eyes, dark and quiet, glimmered
for a moment with something more—magic? Or just the morning light?
“I’m here to give you a prophecy, aren’t I? A prophecy that I
already know.”

Elena said nothing,
only nodded.

Arkady took in a deep
breath, straightened his back, tilted his chin up, and spoke.